Broken World (Book 6): Forgotten World (18 page)

Blocking out everything we’ve been through the last two days is almost impossible, but I manage to make it happen by focusing on Axl and how much I love him. On this moment that exists only for the two of us. That’s all we need, anyway. Each other.

When we’ve finished, I collapse against him. The air in the cab is thick with moisture and the windows are so fogged up no one would be able to see in if they tried, but I’m too comfortable against Axl’s chest to even think about moving. Even when my stomach growls.

“We could just sleep here,” I say through a yawn.

“I think you’d regret it in the mornin’ when you couldn’t move your neck.”

He has a point.

“Okay, we’ll sleep inside, but I want to stay for a little bit longer. Enjoy you without Dax breathing down my neck or Angus making dirty comments. Just pretend we’re two teenagers who snuck away in your dad’s truck.”

He kisses the top of my head. “Alright.”

We go back to lying together in silence. Axl runs his hand up and down my back, making me shiver despite the humid air clogging the cab. When my eyes begin to grow heavy, though, I realize it’s time to move. The truck isn’t the best place to sleep even if we are alone.

“We should get going,” I say through a yawn.

“Yeah,” Axl says, helping me sit up.

We manage to find our clothes pretty easily, but it takes longer than normal to shimmy my way back into my pants. You’d think by this point I’d be used to getting dressed in tight spaces, but I’m not. My skin is so slick with sweat that my shirt sticks to my skin, making it almost impossible to find the armholes, and even when I manage to get it on, the material gets bunched up around my stomach.

“I could use a shower,” I mutter, moving to the edge of the seat so I can untangle my shirt.

“That’ll have to wait ‘til we get to Atlanta.” Axl grabs the handle but glances back at me before pushing the door open. “You ready?”

“Everything is where is should be,” I say.

He pulls the handle, and the door swings open, letting a burst of cool air into the cab. Axl slides out as I inhale, filling my lungs once before blowing it out. The second time I inhale, the stink of rot fills my nostrils.

“Axl!” I cry, reaching for him right before a zombie steps into view.

The thing snarls and grabs Axl’s arm, pulling him forward just as my fingers close around his other arm. He slips from my grip and tumbles forward, slamming into the zombie so hard the thing loses its footing. They fall, the zombie first and Axl right after him, his body landing on top of the decaying monster. I’m out of the truck before they’ve hit the ground, pulling my knife free and screaming for Angus, but I’ve only made it a step when another zombie appears, moaning and reaching for me. On the ground, Axl and the first zombie struggle, kicking up dirt that fills my lungs with every breath I take. They’re blocking the second zombie, making it impossible for him to get to me, but also for me to go to Axl’s aid.

“Angus!” I scream again as the truck door slams into me. It hits my knees and pushes me back against the seats, pinning me between the door and the truck.

Axl grunts, but I can’t see him from where I’m trapped. I push against the door, but the zombie on the other side seems to think he’ll be able to get to me if he puts all of his weight against it. The metal only slams into me harder, hitting my knees over and over again as the zombie tries to get to me.

“Axl!” Angus screams from somewhere in the distance.

Seconds later, Dax’s voice breaks through the moans and growls, yelling at Angus to get back inside. I can’t see a damn thing, but the sound of feet running across the pavement is unmistakable. Angus’s swearing comes next, followed by moans. Axl’s grunts are muffled thanks to the door, but he’s still moving. Still fighting.

The door slams against me so hard that I swear my kneecaps are going to shatter. I suck in a deep breath, ignoring the rot that fills my lungs, then shove with all the strength left in me. The door swings open, and the zombie blocking my way goes flying back. Axl comes into view. Angus is next to him, trying to pull the dead man away from his brother while Dax simultaneously tries to get Angus to back off. All he’s succeeding in doing is making it worse for Axl, though.

“Stop!” I scream.

Without taking the time to think it through, I slam my foot into Dax’s face. My heel makes contact with his already damaged nose, and his grip finally loosens on Angus as blood pours from this nostrils. Less than two seconds after he’s free, Angus manages to get the zombie off Axl. He tosses the thing aside, and Parvarti comes out of nowhere. She slams a butcher’s knife into the zombie’s skull, and just like that, it stops moving. The second one is down as well thanks to Jim, who stands over the body with a knife still clutched in his hand.

“Shit.” Angus leans down and hauls Axl to his feet, giving him a once-over before spitting.

“I’m alright,” Axl says, dusting the filth off his pants. It doesn’t do a lot of good, though. Zombie ooze isn’t easy to get rid of.

“You asshole!” I yell when my concern for Axl morphs into rage—all of it aimed at Dax. “What the hell were you doing? You could have gotten us all killed.”

Dax sits on the ground, holding his bloody nose. “My job,” he says, his voice low and firm.

“Bullshit,” I say, taking a step toward him. “You weren’t protecting Angus, you were trying to keep him from helping Axl. You think I would start screwing you just because he was bitten? Well dream on!”

Dax climbs to his feet and swipes his hand across his face to wipe away the blood, wincing. “This didn’t have anything to do with you.”

“I don’t believe you,” I hiss.

“You can believe what you want. Of course, if you two hadn’t been out here screwing instead of inside where it’s safe, none of this would have happened.” Dax turns and heads for the diner. “Angus!”

“Fuck him,” Angus mutters, shaking his head.

“You both okay?” Jim says, also not following Dax.

“We’re fine,” Axl says, his eyes leveled on the back of Dax’s head. “Let’s go inside an’ get some rest.”

16

THE SUN IS still low when we set out. Dax and Angus in the cab—at the insistence of
the boss
—and the rest of us in the bed of the truck. The mood since last night has been dark and distrustful, and I can’t stop thinking about the things Jim said and how Dax tried to stop Angus from helping his brother. It was intentional, and I know it. There isn’t a doubt in my mind. The only question now is: how much can I actually trust him after what happened?

“How far do you think we can go on the gas we have?” Joshua calls as we barrel down the road.

“Two hundred miles,” Axl replies. “Maybe.”

“Then what?” Ginny asks, her voice shaking as the tires bump over the uneven pavement.

We got off Route 66 shortly after we set off this morning, but the road here isn’t much better than the forgotten highway. A winter of disuse and neglect has left it full of potholes and covered in debris.

“We’ll look for more gas,” Jim says, answering for Axl. “There has to be some.”

“And weapons!” Parvarti calls.

Her red bandana is tied so tightly around her head that not a single hair has escaped, but mine and Ginny’s is all over the place. At least hers is short enough that it isn’t in her eyes. Mine has whipped me in the eyeball so hard a couple times I’m afraid I may be blind by the end of the day.

Axl nods but stays silent. Talking over the roar of the wind and engine is just too difficult, so I don’t blame him.

The sun beats down on us until I’m pretty sure my skin is going to melt off, and not even the rush of the wind helps alleviate the heat. Jim is wearing a leather jacket that helps keep the sun off his body, but Ginny’s face is spotted with freckles, and her nose is now bright pink. Joshua has resorted to wrapping an extra shirt around his face and pulling his arms into the T-shirt he’s wearing to limit his exposure. It isn’t a bad idea. Axl and Parvarti alone seem unconcerned, although Axl’s face has taken on a shade slightly darker than the one I’m used to seeing.

Sunscreen is a must at this point.

I sit up, holding onto the side of the truck tightly so I don’t lose my balance. The higher vantage point gives me a chance to get a good look at the road in front of us, but at first there’s nothing. Just trees and open fields. A wasteland of forgotten landscape that flies past us so fast it’s little more than a blur. Then, after only a few seconds, a few signs come into view. Perfect.

“We need to stop!” I call as I lower myself back to a sitting position. “Bathroom break!” Among other things.

Axl bangs on the window separating the cab and the truck bed, but Dax barely looks over his shoulder—and he doesn’t slow. Axl bangs again, and Angus twists in his seat so he can pull the window open.

“Gotta stop!” Axl yells.

Angus nods and says something to Dax. It still takes the asshole a couple minutes to slow down.

He must have read my mind, because he pulls into the gas station I spotted in the distance. The parking lot is empty, and the front windows are broken—meaning we probably aren’t going to be able to find much in the way of food—but if luck is on our side, there may be some other things lying around.

I’m on my feet the second the truck pulls to a stop, jumping down and heading for the front door with my knife out. My skin has been singed to a rosy pink, and I’m over it. I need to cover up as soon as possible, and I know I’m not the only one.

“Vivian,” Axl calls from behind me. Feet thump against the pavement when he jumps out of the truck.

“Cover me,” I say instead of slowing.

Broken glass is spread across the pavement, shimmering in the bright sun. It crunches under my shoes as I walk. I keep my ears and eyes—and nose—open, and my knife ready. So far, though, the only noise is from the truck behind me.

“Looks clear,” I say as Axl comes to a stop at my side.

I step through the broken front window, and Axl follows me inside. The store is devoid of any food, and even the refrigerators lining the wall have been cleaned out. But there are still random items on the shelves: Chapstick, feminine hygiene products, bottles of laundry detergent, and shampoo. I head toward that aisle, and the second I step down it, I let out a sigh of relief. Sunblock.

“This will help,” I say, pulling it off the shelf and holding it up so Axl can see it. “But I want to see if they have any hats. We need to try and keep the sun off our faces.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he says.

There’s none up front, so I move toward the door marked
Employees Only
. Footsteps crunch against the broken glass at our backs as Axl and I head deeper into the store. I glance behind me to where Parvarti and Joshua browse the few things remaining on the shelves. Jim climbs over the counter, probably in search of cigarettes.

“See if they have dip!” Angus calls from outside the store.

The back room is dark and musty and stuffed full of so many boxes I find it hard to maneuver my way through. They’ve all been ripped open and thrown everywhere, and one glance inside tells me anything useful has been taken. When I inhale, the scent of death clings to the air. With as faint as it is, though, I’d guess whoever’s in here has just recently started to rot.

Something rustles, and Axl and I both pause. I hold my breath, straining to hear over the chatter from the other room. It takes a second, but once again something moves.

“This way,” Axl whispers, jerking his head to the right.

For a brief second, I consider going for backup but dismiss the idea as Axl moves forward. Something is in here, but it could just be an animal. If it is the undead, it can’t be more than one. There isn’t enough noise, and the stench isn’t bad enough.

Axl keeps his knife up, expertly dodging the boxes so he doesn’t make a sound, and I stay as close to him as possible. Even after all these months, my heart still pounds harder than normal at the thought of fighting a zombie. It probably always will.

We reach the back of the room and step around a pile of empty boxes. A dead man comes into view, and three rats so big they could be mistaken for small opossums scurry away from where they’d been nibbling on the poor bastard. His nose has been chewed off, and little bites cover his face and neck, but it doesn’t look—or smell—like he’s been dead long. A couple days at the most.

“Must’ve just happened,” Axl says, shaking his head.

He kneels next to the man and grabs a backpack off the floor.

“What do you think happened?” I ask, kneeling as well.

Axl shakes out the bag, and a handful of items fall to the ground. A flashlight that doesn’t work when I flip it on, a wallet that holds a bunch of useless credit cards, empty plastic bottles, and a box of Band-Aids. That’s it.

“Starved,” Axl says, opening the box of Band-Aids. “Look how skinny he was.”

Axl is probably right. The guy’s arms are like toothpicks, and a rip in his shirt reveals ribs almost poking through his skin. He looks like he hasn’t eaten in weeks.

“I know it’s rough out there,” I say, shaking my head, “but we’ve managed to find food. Why couldn’t he?”

“Didn’t know where to look. Some people don’t got those reasonin’ skills.”

He has a point.

“Sad,” I say, getting up. “He made it this long, but obviously he didn’t learn anything about survival.”

“Luck always runs out,” Axl says.

He stands, and his foot catches on the dead guy’s leg, pushing the body aside. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to reveal the barrel of a gun.

“Shit,” I say, dropping back to my knees.

Axl kneels too, but before I pull the gun out of its hiding spot, I instinctively look around. Voices are still audible from the other room, but no one has come our way yet. My hands are shaky when I pull the gun out from underneath the dead man’s leg and remove the clip. Three rounds. Not a lot, but better than nothing.

The gun is loaded, and Axl and I are the only ones who know about it. We should keep it that way.

Why I’d even consider hiding a gun doesn’t hit me at first, and then Dax’s voice booms through the building, and my heart pounds like crazy. My eyes meet Axl’s, and he nods before taking the gun from me. He tucks it in his waistband and pulls his shirt over it. Hiding it.

“Best to keep this between us,” he says.

He read my mind. “Yeah.”

Footsteps come up behind us, and we get to our feet. Dax barrels down on us, shoving boxes out of the way like they’ve offended him or they’re a threat.

When he reaches us, his eyes move to the dead guy. “Find anything?”

“Nothin’ useful,” Axl says, his voice level. I love how cool he is under pressure.

My heart is pounding so loud it echoes in my ears. “Junk.”

Dax nods before turning around. “We need to get moving.”

“On our way.” Axl gives my shoulder a squeeze as we head after our leader.

We’ve only been driving for a little over two hours when the truck sputters a couple times and the engine goes out. The sound of Dax cursing is audible even through the glass separating us. The truck slows and comes to a stop in the middle of the road, and I turn to the front just as Dax slams his hand into the steering wheel.

“Guess we’re out of gas,” Jim says, getting to his feet.

Axl and I follow his lead, and we stand side by side, scanning the area. There isn’t a whole lot around, but we did get a little lucky. An old farmhouse sits far back from the road, down the longest unpaved driveway I’ve ever seen. It’s going to be quite a walk to get to the house, but at least we’ll have a place to sleep tonight and we won’t be abandoning the truck for good. Hopefully, they have a car or a stockpile of gas—even a couple gallons stored away for a lawn mower would be good right now. It would get us down the road tomorrow and possibly to a bigger supply. If there is any.

Dax throws the driver’s door open, still cursing when he hops out.

“We’ll stay here for the night,” Axl calls as he throws his legs over the side of the truck and jumps to the ground.

I jump down too, then head to the back so I can lower the tailgate. Parv and Jim are down before I’ve gotten there—already lighting cigarettes—but Joshua stays in the back and helps Ginny scoot across the truck to the tailgate.

“You okay?” I ask, eyeing her closely. She keeps rubbing her stomach, and it’s making me nervous.

Ginny nods and allows me to help her out the truck. “I’m fine. Just uncomfortable.”

“That’s to be expected.” Joshua hops down, but when his eyes meet mine, they’re full of concern. “Just a short walk, and you can rest. Maybe even in a real bed.”

“That would be nice,” Ginny says, letting out a sigh of relief.

I head for the driveway, helping Ginny as I go. We need to get her inside so she can rest, and despite what Joshua says, it isn’t going to be a short walk. This driveway has to be almost a quarter of a mile long.

We’ve only taken two steps when Dax calls out from behind us, “We’re not staying here.”

I stop and turn to meet his gaze, sure I heard him wrong. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, so don’t pretend you didn’t. It’s early. We still have a few hours of daylight left, meaning we can make it eight, maybe nine more miles. There’s no time for sleep.”

“Ginny needs to rest,” I say. “Plus, they could have gas in the house. Walking away right now would be stupid.”

Axl heads my way, not even glancing at Dax. “We’re goin’ to the house.”

He grabs my arm and pulls me forward a little more violently than he probably intended to, but I don’t care. It has nothing to do with me, and I’m just as pissed off as he is. Dax is taking it too far this time. What good will it do to get Angus to Atlanta if the rest of us are dead on our feet?

“We need to regroup and check for supplies,” Jim says behind us. “And we need see if they have gas so we can keep the truck. It would be dumb to leave it here when for all we know they have gas in the barn.”

“Don’t be an idiot!” Dax shouts. “They don’t have gas. All the gas is gone, and we’re just going to have to get used to walking. If she can’t handle it, she should have stayed in Colorado.”